


Stay with Me

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: A fill to the prompt "Stay with Me."She won't beg him to stay. She was not one of those women who became hysterical at the thought of losing their lover. And yet, she could not deny that she ached for him.
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier & Hannibal Lecter, Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29





	Stay with Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piccolastella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piccolastella/gifts).



Her head is resting on his chest, her fingers gently running through the small patch of hair between his pecs. The first signs of morning are beginning to peak through her curtains and expose their nude bodies to the light of the day.

She's been up for over an hour, thinking.

When Hannibal finally begins to wake, his voice is tired and heavily accented as he greets her. She doesn't blame him for his exhaustion; after all, she already feels sore and she hasn't even gotten out of bed.

He turns to look at the clock on the bedside table and placed a kiss to her head, softly inhaling the scent of her hair before motioning to move. He never stayed long.

She won't beg him to stay. She was _not_ one of those women who became hysterical at the thought of losing their lover. And yet, she could not deny that she ached for him. Moreover, it was becoming increasingly difficult to swallow her questions about his intentions. For a man who thrived on appearances and being _seen_ , he never once asked her to accompany him as his date. Sure, she had been asked to attend his dinner parties, but only recently did she realize that she needed _more_. What had once solely been an indulgence in physical pleasure had developed into something more...at least for her. It felt juvenile, but the feelings also warmed her like a soft, thick blanket. Until she remembered that he could cannibalize her.

Her doubt about his own feelings sent a chill up her spine. If he did not _ache_ for her, she was dispensable. Hannibal was handsome enough- if all he wanted was carnal pleasures, she was easily replaceable. She needed to know where she stood.

Bedelia's hand tightens on his chest, and she whispers her request.

"Stay with me."

She looks at him earnestly, blue eyes meeting brown. It is rare that she asks anything from him, even rarer that she does so directly.

"You know I can't," he says softly, with a gentle squeeze to her arm.

She is visibly rebuffed by his words, but only shows it for a moment. Her eyes close and she takes a deep, cleansing breath, as if simultaneously steeling her emotions and scolding her naivety. She silently rises from his arms and is quickly out of the bed, her face now a mask of indifference.

Her nude, porcelain body crosses the room and he watches her muscles flex as she bends over to grab her silk, kimono-style robe, thrown on the floor in their haste last night.

She smoothly slides the robe around her and ties it at the waist. She doesn't even look him in the eye as she flatly tosses her request over her shoulder before ending the ensuite. 

"Please lock the door when you leave."

"Bedelia, wait-"

The door clicks as she slides the lock into place. 

* * *

The next time he sees her, she's ending their client-patient relationship, although it's been a long time since they were only client and patient.

"I've had to draw a conclusion based on what I glimpse through the stitching of the person-suit that you wear, and the conclusion that I've drawn is that you are _dangerous._ " The last word is almost a whisper and when he takes a step toward her, she steps back, her foot wobbling in her heel on the hardwoods.

"Are you offering me a referral?" He asks, his voice almost jovial, but his body language threatening. He takes another intimidating step closer, and this time, she doesn't move and they are practically breathing the same breath.

"No," she says resolutely, her chin tilted in defiance. "You would have to be my patient for me to offer you a referral."

She sidesteps him then, moving to the office door, her business with him finished. He takes in her retreating form, dragging his eyes from her feet to her face, finally noting her completely black ensemble. His questions of her subconscious mind impacting her fashion habits was replaced by the recurring thought that she was dressed as if she were in mourning.

But he didn't feel like addressing that. Instead, he was still annoyed by her insulting comments about his ' _person suit_.' And he would not let her have the last word regarding their relationship. Because truly, this was not about their client-therapist relationship _at all._

"All of this because you cannot cope with a cold bed, Bedelia?"

She visibly flinches before opening the door turns briefly, with a flip of her glistening blonde hair over her shoulder. Her eyes pin him in place with the the iciest glare he's ever seen from her.

"Please never visit my home again."

* * *

He ignores her request to stay away from her home, because he has never truly honored any of her wishes. Not her desire to retire. Certainly not her wish to refrain from his _activities_. This would be no different.

But when he tries his key in the lock, he notices it won't work. She's had her locks changed. Rolling his eyes at the extra effort he must now exert due to her childish pettiness, he easily picks the lock before moving inside.

The lights are off, but the sun shines in through her large, floor-to-ceiling windows. The first thing he notices is that her plants are gone, and the air smells stale. In spite of her infrequent occassions of leaving her home, her house had always smelled _divine_ , her perfume permeating through every room. As he glances across her living room, he notices that all of her furniture is covered in cloth. Walking the room, he picks up a bottle of her perfume.

Holding her perfume in his hand, he is surprised by the feeling of shame that lightly flushes his cheeks. That he failed to adhere to the most basic request. But worse, that she _knew_ he would.

The drop-cloth covered clothing suggested that she may return to her home at some point. But the preparations she had clearly made make him realize that she had not intended to return _soon_. One did not cover furniture for a week away. And moreover, he had not seen her in nearly two weeks, too caught up in his game with Will Graham.

Hannibal is surprised for the second time that day when he identifies the cause of the dull pain in his chest. He missed her, yes. But more to the point, he realized he ached for Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier.

He removes the cloth and drops heavily into _his_ chair, gazing into the empty place where she would once sit, wondering when she would return.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Should I continue with a second chapter?


End file.
